


Reflexively

by orphan_account



Series: Counted [7]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Aspie!Spencer if you squint, Aura - Freeform, Domestic, Epilepsy, Fixation, M/M, Seizure, Seizures, Slash, Spencer without the BAU, argument, derek blows up, epileptic, grand mal, guest starring the jet, ictal nausea, jj and Morgan are badass, light sex, postictal care, rossi is a dick, rossi is wise, row, seizure disorder, spencer fixates, spencer has decisions, spencer is adorable, supportive rossi, tonic clonic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-07 21:19:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3183551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following a tonic-clonic seizure on the jet that delays Spencer's ability to help on a case, he begins to question his place at the BAU. The stress only makes things worse...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Want to thank you all for reading these fics - I wrote the first at 3am one day and didn't expect to leave it up longer than a day or so because I didn't realise how focused on it I'd become. Thank you for sticking around and reading them; they've become important to me and your support has helped to shape them.

Hotch paced back and forth in the small conference room before his team as he filled them in on a call he'd recieved ten minutes earlier. "Our unsub opened fire in a middle school class filled with autistic children." 

He pushed a button on the controller in his right hand and photographs appeared on the TV screen, flicking back and forth between children and the classroom assistants, assassinated and lying bloody on the classroom floor. JJ faltered, Emily took a steadying breath. 

"Jesus." Garcia's face paled visibly. 

"There were no survivors." Hotch added and Derek closed his eyes in disgust. 

"Nobody?" Spencer asked, brows arched up. Hotchner shook his head and clicked off the television. Spencer swallowed, feeling nauseous; breakfast has been light and he hoped he'd have the chance to grab something to eat before they boarded the jet.

"Garcia, I want you to pull up everything you can on the victims families, I'll email you a list of their names for the search. Reid, Morgan and Prentiss, I want you three to talk to the families immediately, when we arrive in Philadelphia; exercise caution and be as careful and sympathetic as possible. JJ, Rossi and I will go directly to the precinct and start evaluating what they have and work on the profile. Wheels up in thirty minutes, guys." 

Hotch left the room quickly, Rossi and Garcia followed. Emily got to her feet, visibly moved by the case. 

"Prentiss, you okay?" Derek asked, handing Spencer his bag from the floor as he inched back his chair. 

"All those kids." She said, shaking her head. "I don't understand hurting kids."

Spencer fastened his bag and looked up at her, "Who does? It's a complex kill signature. It's a psychological defect suggesting his childhood was traumatic and..." 

Emily glanced at him then at her watch. "I'll meet you on the jet." She mumbled, walking away. 

"She's sad. Why is she sad? I thought she was the bionic woman?" Spencer quipped, trailing Derek as he ambled from the conference room with his coffee in hand. 

"It's children, Spence, it's sad." Derek looked over his shoulder, "I know you understand sadness Spencer." 

Spencer rolled his eyes, "No, I do, I just - it's Prentiss, she doesn't care about anything. Why is she a different person now just because it's some kids with autism at the end of a gun... Unf."

Derek stopped walking, causing Spencer to run into his back, and turned around. "Spencer, stop talking. Get your flight bag." Spencer huffed and watched Derek walk away before kicking himself back into gear.

 

-*-*-*-*-*-

 

"Flight time is short, so keep focused - when we arrive we'll be met by the Philadelphia PD who will escort us to the station. The city is afraid, guys, and we are here to help quell that fear so keep it tactful when talking." Hotch reminded, fingering through the file in his hands. "Morgan?" He said, looking up. When Derek looked at him, Hotch nodded down the aisle to Spencer, hands braced against the kitchenette counter, eyes closed and breathing deeply. 

"Spence?" JJ spoke up at the same time. 

Spencer held out one hand and wavered as his balance changed. "I feel sick." He whined. 

"Ictal nausea?" Hotch searched Derek's face. The last thing anyone wanted was Spencer seizing violently on the jet. 

Derek got to his feet. "Feeling anything else?" He asked as he walked to Spencer. He stood directly behind him and placed his hands on Spencer's hips. He felt the tremendous shiver running through him, trembling his every muscle and knew it was inevitable.

"I can - it's - right here." Spencer raised his left hand to his forehead and touched gently. "Like...storm clouds." He said and Emily frowned at the babbled confusion of words. 

"You feel it coming on, Spence?" Derek asked, easing Spencer's arm from the counter top, and slowly began to move Spencer back toward the couch. "Sit down." He spoke carefully. 

"Simple partials." Hotch supplied, catching twitching in Spencer's cheek that Derek couldn't see from behind him. 

Derek gave a measured sigh, "He's gonna go." He addressed everyone. "You help, or you keep your distance - he can't do this with you losing your heads." He looked to Rossi, then Prentiss. He eased Spencer back onto the couch and lifted his legs so he lay awkwardly across it - lying on the soft surface was much safer than collapsing in the kitchen. 

"Not...plane. Derek, let me..." Spencer fought to sit up and Derek eased him back carefully. 

"It's alright, Spencer. You're safe, you can do it here, it's okay." Derek spoke softly and Hotchner memorised his actions and tone; he realised he'd never witnessed Spencer ease comparatively peacefully into a tonic clonic seizure as those he had experienced recently had been sudden and severe. He considered that with warning, it was possible to keep the seizure relatively stress free, given the situation. 

Spencer breathed unevenly, swallowing repetitively, eyes growing wide and wandering around him at everything. Derek stayed on his knees beside the couch and JJ hovered close while Emily and David stood back, unable to look away. 

"There's one." JJ said, hand to her face, as Spencer's eyes rolled and his face twitched up. 

"Yeah it's rolling in." Derek said, his hand pressed lightly to Spencer's flat, jittering stomach. "Just relax, Spencer."

Derek felt the tightness immediately beneath his fingers. Spencer's head turned and his neck stiffened as he groaned deeply into the couch pillow. His arms tightened and stretched above his head rigidly, fingers bent and stiff. His toes pointed down and his hips began to jerk as the seizure took hold. Spencer's guttural noises grew louder and were accompanied by phlegmy gurgles as he vomited. 

"Shit." Derek cursed. "JJ, help me." He awkwardly rose to his feet and turned Spencer's body as safely as he could to run the offending liquid from his mouth. JJ held her hands to Spencer's hips and felt his taught muscles vibrating beneath her fingers. 

Spencer's fit increased in violence, his body arched and tightened, his arms stretched and eyes wide and fixed. His throat heaved over the saliva and vomit. Derek kept his hand loosely on Spencer's cheek to prevent him turning and soothed him with gentle words. 

"It's okay Spencer. You're okay, buddy." 

Hotch watched silently, analysing Spencer and his team around him. Their faces were all the same; fear and worry. JJ and Derek worked on their fear while Emily and David watched, almost paralysed by theirs. 

Spencer's seizure began to slow. The tightening in his muscles turned to twitches and tame jerks. His watery breathing settled to loud exhales and his eyes slowly shut. 

"Two minutes, six." Hotch said carefully. 

"Felt longer." JJ sighed, slowly taking her hand away from Spencer's warm thigh. She pushed her hair from her face with both hands and sighed again. 

"Anyone got a towel of flannel?" Derek asked, "can I get it wet to clean his face."

JJ reached into her flight bag and produced a hand towel. She wet it in the kitchenette sink and wrung it out before handing it to Derek. He gently cleaned the vomit from Spencer's cheek and then folded the towel in half and carefully tucked it beneath his face, lifting it free of the foul liquid on the fabric. 

"My god." Rossi's voice permeated a brief quiet. 

Derek peppered his fingers on Spencer's cheek and quietly called his name. "Spencer? Are you with me, bud?" He asked as Spencer's hands moved as though he were fighting Derek away. "Spencer, no, it's okay just lie still for a minute. Open your eyes and look at me, Spence."

Spencer made a moaning sound and turned his body purposelessly, hands moving still against Derek's comfort. 

"Why's he so unsettled?" JJ asked, concerned. 

"Sometimes the postictal confusion lasts, he will settle soon and then he'll be weepy and exhausted. He's going to be useless today - really uncoordinated." Derek glanced at Hotchner. "Getting him off the jet is going to be the first task."

Hotch nodded his understanding immediately."We'll take him straight to the hotel; you can stay with him a while."

"Come on, Spencer." Derek rubbed his hand up and down Spencer's bicep. "It's okay, look at me Spencer. Spence? Look at me dude." He waited a moment, his free hand gripping Spencer's wrist loosely as he tried to push out. "Spencer, it's okay. Look at me."

The jet landed with a bump with Spencer still not lucid. Prentiss, Rossi and JJ continued on to the precinct with Hotch while Derek remained on the jet with Spencer, waiting impatiently for him to find consciousness enough to respond purposefully. 

"Spencer, come on." Derek called to him. "Come on, love." The endearment slipped his lips before he knew it had. "Open your eyes for me, Spencer, look at me properly."

Spencer gave a defeated, tired sob as he turned his face into the damp towel beneath his cheek and opened his eyes. 

"There we go." Derek sighed with relief. Spencer screwed up his face, crying weakly with exhaustion. "It's alright. It's okay, shh. Just relax, calm down, and stay with me. You had a fit and I know you're tired but I've got to get you to the car."

Spencer shook his head slowly, face contorted. "M'tired." He sobbed. 

"I know you're tired. But I want to take you to the hotel, to bed. Okay? Gonna come with me?" Derek asked, raking his hand through spencers hair. Spencer shook his head on another sob and it broke Derek's heart.

Despite the effort, Derek resulted to lifting Spencer in a cradled hold in his arms. Hotch had already informed him a car would be waiting, so the difficult part was getting Spencer down the jet steps and onto the Tarmac without injuring him. Hoisted in his arms, Derek held Spencer close as he awkwardly eased through the jet door and ambled on uncoordinated legs down the uneasy steps. His foot hitting damp ground was the most satisfying feeling he'd felt since boarding the plane. The waiting car was quickly opened by the waiting driver, who flung the rear door open to allow Derek to skip Spencer across the back seats. 

Once he was confident Spencer was as safe as he was going to get lying down in the back of the car, Derek jogged back to retrieve their bags and slotted himself into the back of the car beside Spencer. 

"It's okay, man." He soothed, feeling drained. "I'm not leaving you."


	2. Chapter 2

The hotel was basic and the room was small, but Spencer woke comfortable in the kingsize bed with a soft pillow under his cheek and a warm duvet over his body. If he hadn't opened his eyes and felt instantly nauseous and struck with a headache, the settling would have been idyllic. He lay still for a moment, counting the thudding pains in his head with the time of his heartbeat. He pushed the duvet aside and sat up carefully; he wasn't wearing his work trousers anymore and his shirt was gone, too, leaving him in his boxer shorts and a t-shirt. He blinked, his head foggy, and recalled the jet. 

He pushed himself from the bed and rose to his feet. The wooden floor was cold beneath his feet but the sensory experience wasn't a bad one. Walking nervously, with wobbling legs and an airy feeling in his head, he walked around the screen door that divided the room and saw Derek, sitting at round, pine table with his laptop open and papers scattered around him. Hearing the sound of Spencer's naked feet on the varnished floor, he looked up. 

"Hi, bedhead." He smiled and Spencer looked back at him, unregistering the jibe. "How're you feeling?"

"Like I probably had a seizure some place ridiculous." Spencer said, mumbled. "Think I bit my cheek." He tongued the inside of his mouth. 

Derek winced. "Headache?" He asked. "There's aspirin in my bag."

Spencer shook his head no, careful not to rattle his brain too much. "I'm okay." He slipped into the chair beside Derek. "Hotch pissed at me?"

Derek screwed his face up and shook his head. "Why would he be?" Spencer shrugged his right shoulder. "Are you hungry?"

"I could eat," Spencer nodded and licked inside his mouth again, able to feel where an ulcer had formed. He yawned wide, stretching his entire face, and ended with a sigh. He pushed his mussed hair from his eyes and cupped his face, resting his elbows on the table. 

"Hotch called an hour ago." Derek spoke up, closing his laptop down. "Prentiss and Rossi had a lead on the unsub." Spencer gave an encouraged nod.

"How long was I sleeping?" Spencer asked, suddenly aware he had no idea of time. 

Derek got to his feet, "About three hours once we go back here." He stopped behind Spencer's chair.

"Sorry." Spencer whispered feebly. 

"You've gotta stop apologising." Derek said firmly, resting his hands on the back of his chair. He leaned over and kissed the mess of Spencer's hair, right on the crown of his head. "I'll fix you something to eat, then I need to call Hotch."

"Why?" Spencer leaned his head back - his head rested on Derek's stomach and his neck stretched long as he gazed up.

"He just wanted me to let him know when you were awake." Derek said, leaning again to kiss Spencer's mouth. "Sit there, you're resting until tomorrow morning at the earliest." Derek straightened up. 

"I'm all right." Spencer said, a groan in his tone. 

Derek silenced him with a look, "I don't care how you think you feel, you're resting and tomorrow we start again. Got it?"

Spencer straightened in the chair and got to his feet, feeling wobbly but trying not to show it. Derek knew, of course. "I'm gonna take a shower." He said, low-toned, and headed toward the small bathroom. 

 

-*-*-*-*-*-

 

"Hotch is with JJ and the PD?" Spencer's voice echoed across the room.

"Yeah, he was when I called." Derek called back from his spot at the table, emailing back and forth with Garcia and putting together what he could to help from a minor distance.

Spence emerged from behind the screen door, dressed and pulling his satchel over his head. "Good. Let's go."

"Spencer? What are - you're not going." Derek shook his head. "You need to relax, you're not steady enough on your feet. Sit down and let yourself recover." 

Spencer pushed his hair from his face, "I'm fine. Let's go."

"No." Derek said firmly.

Spencer held out his hands. "Then give me the keys to the supplied car." 

"No chance. You're not allowed to drive at the best of times, and definitely not after a tonic clonic." Derek turned away from his work and stood up. He crossed the space between he in and Spencer and reached out, resting his hands on Spencer's shoulders.

Spencer shucked him away quickly. "Don't pet me." He snapped. "I hate this." He embarrassed himself at the fragility of his voice. "I want a normal day, for once. I want to wake up at ten am and not worry that I missed medication; I want to drive a car, I want to work alone, I want walk into the conference room at the BAU and not feel like everybody is watching me for signs I'm going to freak out or start spastically waving bodyparts." 

Derek crossed his arms over his chest and listened as Spencer vented. 

"And that's the thing about my job, I can't be who I am because it compromises work. Gideon pushed for me, and now he's not here its as though Hotchner holds on to me just because you and I are... And I don't want that, I don't want to keep my job because of nepotism, I want to be in a job where I'm there because I'm good at it."

"Spencer -,"

"Don't." Spencer held up his hand. "Don't compliment me or tell it's not true. It is. Hotch thinks I'm an arrogant little boy. And I get it - I'm some kid with his head up his ass and an intellectual advantage on him; I get it." 

"Hotch is old school." Derek reasoned. "But he knows your talents, he knows you're good at this. He would never..." 

"I'm planning on this being the last case I work as a profiler." Spencer cut across Derek's words and he silenced, stunned. 

"Because I want you to take it easy for a day, you're going to quit the BAU?" Derek threw out his hands. 

Spencer shook his head and eased his bag off, dropping it to the floor. "No. It's more than that. It's because I need to take that time off that I have to leave. I could work in a lab someplace, at MIT or Yale. I could get a faculty job and come home nights and weekends and be stable and visit my mom and not feel guilty..."

Derek reached out and cupped Spencer's cheek, and despite Spencer's prickling at being held, he didn't pull away. "You are good at what you do now; you see things we never would, remember what seems inane but is vital. I couldn't imagine the team without you." 

"There'll be others: Greenaway and Gideon were replaced." Spencer said, slightly hurt. 

Derek closed his eyes and pulled Spencer to him, hugging close to his chest. After a moment of rigidity, Spencer wrapped his arms around Derek's waist and inhaled against his shirt. "Don't make this decision now." Derek said, hopefully, his right hand cupped in Spencer's hair. "Please? Think about it?" 

Spencer took a deep breath in and sighed it out. "Just until we're home." He agreed. 

It wasn't enough for Derek but he took it, holding Spencer even closer. The BAU was the reason they met, the reason they fell in love, the reason both of them breathed and then blood in their veins. Derek couldn't imagine who Spencer would be if he didn't have the FBI.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for obvious typos - typed on my phone, on the bus!

Spencer bit into a slice of pizza and set it down in the napkin before him on the table. Around him, the team ate and talked, spending a rare evening off the clock. They'd gathered at Rossi's for homemade pizza and beers in celebration of Morgan's birthday. Forced into a party hat but jovial and bright, Morgan nudged his body into Reid's as he daydreamed. He put his beer bottle down on the table and asked if he was okay. 

Spencer nodded and smiled quickly. "I'm fine." He promised. "This is nice." He leaned across and lightly kissed Derek's lips. Unprepared, Derek was momentarily taken aback but he quickly returned the kiss, pushing into Spencer's affection until he smiled into the kiss and pulled away. 

Derek laughed at him. "What?" 

Spencer shook his head and eased forward again, into another kiss. His hand rested on Derek's thigh while Derek's hands cupped Spencer's cheeks, holding the kiss deeply.

"Break it up!" Penelope teased, patting Spencer's shoulder. When the boys parted, Spencer looked at her sheepishly, his cheeks flushed pink. "We all get to kiss him today, he's the birthday boy!" She wiggled her eyebrows. "I'm so glad you guys got home before tonight arrived - birthdays on cases suck and I would have missed out on party time!" She laughed. 

"Work comes first." JJ said lightly. 

"Beer comes second!" Derek held up his beer and Penelope rolled her eyes as she giggled, half way to drunk.

Spencer shifted so he could recline against Derek's chest, their chairs at odd angles. He smiled as conversations fluttered around him; Emily's plans, Garcia's flirtatious jokes and JJ's serious but underlying humour. Derek laughed with them, the sound vibrated through Spencer's spine and it was oddly relaxing. 

"More to drink, Spencer?" 

Spencer blinked and turned his head to David's voice. He held out a bottle of red wine. 

"No thank you." He declined politely. "Incidentally, do you know when Hotch intended on stopping by?"

Rossi shrugged, "He said he would if he could." He smiled hopefully. 

"Why?" Derek asked, jiggling his shoulder to attract Spencer's attention. Spencer inclined his head awkwardly to look at him. "Why're you worried about Hotch?"

"Not discussing work on a night off are you Spence?" JJ asked with a smile. 

Spencer felt hot. "No." He answered simply. 

Derek nudged him again, "Please tell me you weren't planning on having that discussion? You promised you would think about it - we are home five hours and you're already desperate to do this?"

Spencer shrugged. 

"What discussion?" Emily asked around a mouthful of tortilla chips. Spencer licked his lips nervously.

"Spence?" JJ frowned. 

Derek pushed Spencer up and got to his feet, leaving Spencer looking a little lost and somewhat ambushed. When Derek erupted, Spencer regretted having opened his mouth at all. 

"Reid?" Emily pressed. 

"Nothing. It's not important." Spencer fiddled his hands in his lap. 

"Morgan?" Garcia looked to her main man as he helped himself to another beer in the box on the kitchen counter. "What's going on?"

"Not important?" Derek spun around as Spencer's words registered. "You really think it's not important? Then why are you even considering it?" 

"Stop it. This isn't what it's about, but seen as you're hell bent on discussing it then fine; I'm considering it because I have to." Spencer called back and JJ faltered - in theory, everyone knew Spencer and Derek were together but seeing this, something so open and domestic and personal as an argument fully cemented the idea in her head. 

"No you don't! You're cutting your nose off to spite your face; why are you doing it tonight?" Derek demanded. "It's supposed to be a party, it's supposed to be my birthday."

Spencer twitched his jaw tightly. 

"Guys, come on." Emily rose from her seat, situated between where Spencer was sitting and the guts of the kitchen where Derek was loitering. "Is this really the time for a domestic?"

"Keep out of it, Prentiss." Derek snapped. "Spencer, outside." 

"No, I'm not doing this with you now. And for your information, I wasn't going to do it with Hotch tonight either. He and I have something planned for you, that's why I was asking." Spencer shot back angrily. "But as you've jumped to the gate, you might as well finish sabotaging the rest of your night by revealing something I hadn't even made my mind up on yet." 

Rossi clapped his hands twice and then held up his arms, trying to defuse the situation. "Okay, boys, why don't we call time on the wrestling match? If you want to tell us now what this is all about, I'm sure we are all ears. If not, there's an empty bedroom on the second floor you can use to discuss this in private. Failing either of those suggestions, how about we all take a breath and get back to celebrating your birthday?" He pointed carefully at Derek. 

Derek slammed his beer bottle noisily onto the counter, "I need some air." He said with hostility and stalked toward the backyard doors. 

Emily lowered back into her seat as Derek closed the door on himself in the yard. "Okay, what's going on?" She turned on Spencer. JJ and Garcia's eyes landed on Spencer too, despite their efforts to appear like they weren't prying into anything. 

Spencer inhaled and exhaled loudly and shook his head, simultaneously rolling his eyes to the point he looked like a petulant teen. "I've been..." He began and paused, considering his words. "I thought about leaving the BAU." He nearly whispered. 

"Oh, honey." Penelope cooed. 

"Excuse me?" JJ's mouth opened wide. "Why?"

"It was a tantrum!" Spencer argued. "I was tired and angry and post-seizure. I got mad at myself and my head and...I said it, and when I said it I realised I didn't regret it." He looked at JJ, pained. "Derek got mad, obviously, and asked me to think about it, not to decide until we were back here. Once we got back I spoke to Hotch about tonight and as it was a surprise, he didn't know. So when I mentioned Hotch he assumed I'd made up my mind."

"Have you?" Emily asked. 

Rossi watched the women as they crowded Spencer and awaited his response. 

Spencer shook his head, "I don't know." He shrugged. "I think yes, and then there's tonight and I think no." 

Penelope reached out for Spencer's shoulder and rubbed her hand along the blade lovingly. "I don't want you to go, brainbox." She said with a pout. 

JJ smirked, "I'd hate to see you walk away from us, Spence. You're too useful." 

"Yeah!" Emily over-exaggerated, "who needs research when you have Spencer Reid?"

Spencer smiled flatly. "Thank you, but..." He flattened his mouth down into a line and shrugged again. 

"You'd be a loss to the BAU, Reid." Rossi spoke up, calm and gently spoken. "If you'd accept my advice, wait and think about our decisions before you make them. And if I may interject again - go outside and speak to Morgan. We will all be waiting here when you get back."


	4. Chapter 4

Derek scuffed his boots against the damp decking outside of Rossi's door. The garden was expansive and lined with flower boxes and shrubs, floodlit by lamps and smelled fresh after an earlier smattering of rain. He inhaled a lungful of cool, night air and attempted to calm his frazzled temper. 

He rarely cut short with Spencer - almost never, in fact - but if he did it always felt like the most serious and simultaneously saddening thing to broach their relationship. He felt lied to - how could Spencer say one thing (and promise it) and do another? It was lying as far as he was concerned, if he'd meant it or not, and Derek was certain he'd had enough lies to last him a lifetime. 

He sighed audibly when he heard the door jar open behind him. He didn't turn, but listened to the footsteps as they approached him. He knew it was Spencer by the muttered 'shit' when his foot slipped, squeaking on the wet decking.

"I'm still angry, Spencer." He threw behind him.

"Me too. You made me feel like I'd done something wrong, and you made it so I had to share something I wasn't ready to share." Spencer snapped back at him. "I'm allowed to be mad at you, you made me look like an idiot." 

"I did? You -." Derek silenced, his expression firm, and swore loudly into the air. "You drive me insane." 

"And you treat me like I don't have the slightest clue what it's like to be you. I know you, Derek. Cut the crap!" Spencer countered. 

Derek swallowed and laughed manically. "You've got to stop listening to Prentiss." His angered laughter turned natural when Spencer laughed too. 

"Feel stupid yet?" Spencer asked, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he came to a halt beside Derek. 

Derek looked across to him. "What did you expect me to think, given our conversation?" He said with a sigh. 

"I expected you to trust me, to not think the worst of me." Spencer said, looking out across the garden. 

"I don't think the worst of you, Spencer; how could I?" Derek turned to him. "Look at me?" Spencer angled his head to lock their eyes. "Properly." When he slowly turned, Derek placed his hands on his shoulders. "I got angry because I'm scared." 

"Of what?" Spencer demanded, a little sharp. 

"That you'll make the wrong decision, that Hotch will let you go if you really want to. That everything will slip." He admitted, fully open. "What else was I supposed to assume? We talk about you leaving and the next thing you're gunning to see Aaron Hotchner!" 

"I'm doing what you wanted." Spencer said forcefully. "I'm thinking about it, I'm working my head around it. One minute I'm decided, the next I'm not. I don't know what I want to do - I just know I hate feeling like this. But that you think I would bring all this down on your birthday, in front of everyone..." 

Derek stopped Spencer in his speech by kissing him hard. He held Spencer to the spot with his hands on his small hips and deepened the kiss swiftly. Spencer's arms locked around Derek's neck as he tilted his head and breathed deeply through his nose, feelings ignited by the dominance of Derek's mouth. 

Derek's right hand moved up Spencer's back and settled on the back of his head, fingers draped in his long hair. He kissed harder, pulled Spencer closer, and slowly drew his head back until only their foreheads touched. 

"I'm sorry." He whispered and moved slightly to peck Spencer's lips. 

Spencer nodded gently. "I'm sorry too." He sought Derek's lips again and immediately pushed for a sweet, open-mouthed kiss. 

"Okay, stop." Derek pushed Spencer away carefully. "Hold the thought til we get home, okay? We can't stand out here like this when they're all gathered in there waiting for the gossip." 

Spencer leaned forwards until he rested on Derek's chest, his head on his shoulder. "Can we go home now?"

"No." Derek chuckled and held Spencer's hug for a moment. "Right." He clapped his hand on his back, "Let's go back in."

Derek led back across the garden and preceded Spencer inside. As the door closed behind them, all eyes fell on the couple hopefully. 

"Drink?" JJ asked, washing the last twenty minutes from the air with a simple question. 

"Sure," Derek smiled and approached her, taking the beer she held out to him hopefully. 

Spencer retook his seat at the table and looked sheepishly in the direction of Aaron Hotchner who's presence had gone unmentioned by the rest of the team. Hotch looked at him and nodded, "Everything is in place." He said and nodded toward Derek. "Go ahead," he laughed, "Share the surprise."

"Well it's been hyped up so whatever huge ideas you have is probably way off the mark. But I know you're going to like it and I know that it's something you wanted to do, Hotch had the idea and it was perfect, so..." 

"Spencer, shut up!" Emily teased. 

Spencer's cheeks flushed as everyone laughed but he looked up to Derek with a grin. "Hotch and I organised flight time for you in a military grade helicopter, and six aircraft lessons. You like flying so much? Fly your own plane." 

Derek's eyes widened in surprise as everyone cheered. "You really did that?" Derek asked, recalling conversations he and Spencer had had over dinner of snuggled on the sofa where Derek's dream of flying an aircraft himself had been mentioned. That Spencer had retained it wasn't surprising, that he'd recalled it and used the information this way was romantic. 

"Spencer was insistent." Hotch laughed. 

Derek arched over the table to kiss Spencer softly on the lips. "Thank you." He whispered. "That's amazing."

The evening spanned on, filled with teasing and laughter. Drink flowed and the good food kept the team sharing stories and jokes well past midnight. They began tapering off before one; JJ and Prentiss made their excuses and left, kissing everybody goodbye before falling into taxis to take them home. Hotch left with Garcia, who'd indulged heavily, and saw her safely back to her apartment before heading home himself. Derek thanked David for his hospitality as he supported a sleepy Dr Reid on the doorstep of his home, about to climb into a waiting cab.

"Really, it's been a great night." 

Rossi shook their hands. "Happy to host." He smiled fondly. "Take him home," he winked and inclined his head to Spencer. "Let him sleep." 

Derek laughed as Spencer gave a fake snore in his ear and followed it up with a giggle. "Come on, taxi's here." He tapped his hand against Spencer's bony hip. The two walked away, meandering down the path to the sidewalk and climbed into the waiting cab.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive errors - typed on my crappy iPhone whilst walking around town!

Spencer opened his eyes quickly to the sounds of screams in his dreams tapering off slowly. He grounded himself by clutching the quilt and curled up on his side, able to make Derek's shape in the early morning half light coming through the cracked curtains. He calmed himself with quiet breaths and pushed his feet forwards until he met Derek's skin. 

They'd got home by quarter to two and were quick to settle into bed. Spencer had fallen asleep quickly and his dreams had been wild for the majority of the time - he was surprised when he caught the time on the clock on Derek's locker and saw that it was almost seven. He'd managed to sleep, and deeply, if hazardously peppered with frightening, uncoordinated dreams. 

He closed his eyes, hoping for a couple more hours of relaxation, and was sure he swore when he heard Derek shift and Derek's phone begin to ring noisily. 

"If that's Hotch..." Derek muttered, awake all of a sudden, as he reached to his locker to pick up his phone. "Morgan." He said sharply. 

"It's David; any chance you and Reid can get yourselves to the office as soon as?" 

"Sure." Derek said as he stifled a yawn. "We'll be there." He folded his phone and turned over. "Was Rossi, we need to get in..." 

Spencer groaned into the pillow, "Sick day?" 

Derek laughed, despite his fatigue. "Afraid not, pretty boy. You grab the first shower, I'll start some coffee."

 

-*-*-*-*-*-

 

Once the team was gathered together, suitably exhausted but all willing, JJ handed them all a file documenting the particulars of a new case they'd been handed. It wasn't pretty reading - mutilation, satanic worship and sexual deviance, all culminating in four murders and an unsub who had a thirst for many, many more. 

"NYPD have asked for our assistance; they want to see what we can do to narrow down their search. The city has gone into red alert - religious leaders and police alike are dealing with mass hysteria." JJ explained. 

"I know it feels like twenty four hours off isn't enough, but this case is..." Hotch trailed off. "Wheels up in forty five minutes."

The group disbanded to prepare for their flight with a tense feeling of unease and fatigue hovering over them. Hotch called down to Spencer and invited him into his office. Under everyone's warily close eye, Spencer joined Hotch in his office and ensured the door was closed. 

"Sir?" Spencer questioned, loitering awkwardly. 

"Take a seat, Reid." Hotch pointed to the chair across from him. "This will be quick, don't worry." He smirked briefly as Spencer sat down. 

"What's this about?" Spencer asked, his hands flicking in his lap nervously. 

"I don't want you to question your position on this team. Your ability to work within the FBI has been proved time and time again: leave out Morgan, and Gideon, you've shown this team why you're important on every case. I don't want you to think that you're here for reasons other than that ability, and I don't want you to make a decision based on feelings you have during bad moments, during times when work should be furthest from your mind." Hotch reeled confidently. 

Spencer wet his lips and blinked, shocked. "How did...?"

"Garcia is many things, good at hiding things about you all when she worries, however, is not one of them." Hotch said with a smile, but he sobered quickly. "If leaving the BAU is something you're sure about, I won't stop you and your references will glow. But please, Spencer, think about your decision - realise how important a mind you are to this establishment. And do not, for one moment, think that your epilepsy status changes how I perceive you or your work." 

Spencer nodded, overwhelmed, and tried to work out a response. 

"Work this case, and give me your decision when we get back." Hotch said firmly. "Okay?" 

"Yes sir." Spencer got to his feet. "Thank you." He bit his bottom lip as he ambled awkwardly from the office. He felt both weightless and betrayed, comfortable and unsure. Was he supposed to pretend to Morgan like nothing had happened and present his answer secretly when they came back home - an answer he still was so unsure of?

Spencer rejoined the team, aware they were wondering, and said nothing. He retrieved his bag and excused himself to the bathroom before they prepared to board the jet. As he washed his hands, he stared at himself in the mirror and tried to consider himself placed elsewhere - somewhere benign, safe and assured. He couldn't. He switched off the water and swore as his right arm began to tighten. 

He gripped onto the sink counter with his left hand as his right side slowly built up speed, jerking until his shoulder twisted, pulling his body in on itself as it convulsed. His mouth dropped open and he hissed, out of annoyance rather than discomfort, as the forty second attack felt like an hour. He had it under control until it felt as though his hips were working themselves out, too, pulling his right leg in a twist as his muscles contracted. He slipped, crashing to his bottom with a bump, his side still jerking rhythmically while his jaw began to tighten. 

When forty seconds became a rare minute, his body finally started to feel loose. Sitting on the bathroom floor, eventually in control of his limbs again, he got to his feet shakily and examined his sickly face in the mirror as he shook the odd feeling from his arm. 

He knew his partial seizures inside out - always the same side, always the Jacksonian March. He felt like he lost control whilst still being mentally aware and he often felt it was sometimes worse to know what was happening than to not. He dusted his trousers off and, ignoring the nausea he felt rising in his throat, he left the bathroom to join the team. 

"Thought you'd fallen in." David teased as Spencer returned to his desk, picking up the bags he'd abandoned on his desk. 

It took a minute for it to register with Spencer he was being addressed. He blinked and looked up, frowning at Rossi. "What?" 

Over David's shoulder, Derek went on alert. "You okay, Spence?" Spencer nodded slowly. 

"Alright guys, let's get a move on." Hotch's voice intercepted any further questioning and the team kicked into action. 

 

-*-*-*-*-*-

 

The short flight to New York was a breeze and the team were dispersed in pairs, with Reid and JJ left at the precinct to work up victimology. As Spencer threw himself into a timeline of one of the victims, JJ interrupted his thought pattern with a hand on his shoulder. 

"Sorry," she apologised when he jumped. "Didn't mean to scare you." 

"It's okay." Spencer said without looking at her. "I've found a link between the victims - I think it's hair colour and location; they all go or went to the same college."

She scratched the side of her face absently. "Did Hotch convince you not to go?" 

Spencer put down his pen and looked at her. "He asked me to stay, if that's what you mean." 

"And will you?" JJ said, quietly. 

Spencer shrugged. "I hope so." He spoke so small that JJ almost missed it. 

JJ sighed and pulled in a chair beside Spencer. "Why do you want to go?" She asked, "What happened that made you think you couldn't stay?"

Spencer ignored her for a moment and then shrugged his shoulders. "I had a seizure on the jet, JJ. On the way to a case that was huge for us. I was useless for two days, could barely think straight. How is that right? The team needs me to think, not hang around." Spencer erupted. "I had a seizure before we left today, too." 

"I know." JJ said and it stopped Spencer in his tracks. 

"What?" 

"We all know, Spencer. We know by your face, how you swallow a lot, how you walk like you're dizzy. There's always a change. We see it and we say nothing because we know you need us to do that, because we know after a while you'll be back on form and smarter than the rest of us." She smiled. "I know you have it tough, and Derek does everything he can to try to make it easier. But you've got to know, Spencer, that we never, ever think you can't do this job." She put her hand on his shoulder gently. 

Spencer looked at her, unsure how he felt by her words. 

JJ took a deep breath. "Please, Spence, don't leave if your only reason is how embarrassed you are by your seizures."

Spencer frowned. "You make it that way." He snapped. "You and Emily, and Rossi. You look at me like I'm going to put on a floor show for you every time I cough. Don't you get it?" 

"Spencer... I..." JJ faltered. 

"No offence, JJ, but you suck at making me feel any better about staying." He got to his feet and stalked away, storming toward the station's tiny bathroom. 

 

-*-*-*-*-*-

 

Derek stared across the isolated table at their suspect, eyes sharp and face firm. They certain they had their unsub in local man Mark Singer, and were working hard to obtain their confession. 

"Just be honest with me, man." Derek said, holding out his empty palms. "And tell me us why."

The man before him gave a crooked-toothed smile. "I'm telling you shit." He spat. "Why would I - cause you want it?" He smirked and the expression angered Derek to his core. 

"Not for me." Derek said with expertly forced nonchalance. "But for the families of the people murdered." 

Singer bristled. "I didn't murder nobody."

"Sorry," Derek held up his hands. "Raped, brutalised, disfigured and then murdered." 

"You're a piece of shit cop, you know that? You think talking to me like you don't care's gonna make me talk, make me say stuff? You're outta your mind." He tapped his temple with a nicotine stained finger. 

Derek shook his head, careful to try to keep his expression neutral. The door in the corner of the room knocked once and then opened and Hotch appeared in the jamb. 

"Can I have a word?" He called Derek from the from. Derek kicked back his chair and followed Hotch out, shutting Singer in the room alone. "He's not our guy - or, he's our guy but he has an accomplice." 

Derek frowned, "what?"

"There's been another murder; Prentiss, Rossi and Reid are on their way there now." Hotch explained. "Ask him about his friend, taunt him that you know he isn't working alone... But, Morgan, be careful. Don't jeopardise the entire case." 

 

-*-*-*-*-*-

 

The dim, wet night was alive with flashing emergency lights and bodies of emergency service providers, gathered around the half-covered body of a young woman, covered in blood and cut to ribbons. 

Rossi gritted his teeth as Prentiss crouched closer to the victim. "The damage is extensive, Dave." She glanced up at him. 

"Were there any witnesses to the body being left?" Rossi asked the PD officer. 

He shook his head quickly. "No - the call just came in that the body had been discovered by a guy and his girlfriend." He explained, looking over his notes. 

"Can you switch those off?" Reid asked, frowning, gesturing back to the ambulance and police car behind him. 

"You okay, Reid?" Emily stood and gave him a cautious look. 

Spencer shook his head. "Flashing lights...they just..." He gestured oddly. 

"Can we kill them?" Rossi asked politely, putting a hand back to steady Spencer as his side began to jerk. "Is it happening?" Rossi asked, unskilled, and Spencer gave a partial nod as his right side began to tighten and twist. "What can I do?" 

Spencer's right shoulder jerked downward, tugging his balance off, and nudged him into Rossi's small frame. 

"I didn't know he was photosensitive." Emily watched awkwardly. 

"I had a brief talk with Morgan, flashing lights can sometimes trigger seizures but only in dark situations - often if they lights are flashing in daylight, it won't cause a problem." David kept his arm around Spencer's back, able to feel the tremble of the seizure beneath his hand. "This is something small - he's conscious but it's difficult for him to talk because of the contractions on his muscles. It's quite interesting to read up on..." He faded off when he realised there was a multitude of eyes on them. 

"Spencer, are you okay?" Emily asked, put off by the way his seizure seemed to be continuing. And then she saw him straighten, and her heart began to slow. "You done?" 

Arching his back awkwardly, Spencer nodded. He swallowed repetitively and breathed uneasily. He clutched tight to Rossi's jacket. "I'm gonna vomit." He managed between uncontrollable contractions in his throat. 

"Okay, come on. Prentiss, stay here." David asserted, taking Spencer off to the side in an uncoordinated half walk. 

A little out of the way of the scene, Spencer belched loudly and vomited, liquid splashing to his feet noisily. Unsure how else to help, David rubbed his hand against the small of Spencer's back. 

"Get it all up, Reid." He said gently. "I'm going to put you in the car and send you back to base. I'm going to call ahead to Hotch." 

Spencer shook his head, swallowing the foul taste in his mouth away. "I'm okay now." He insisted, rubbing his chin clean with his arm. "Sometimes they make me throw up. It's over now, I'm fine." 

"I can't walk you back into that scene, Spencer. The lights, the postictal confusion..." Rossi reeled off. 

"I'm okay." Spencer insisted. 

"You're not - and working angrily, exhibiting unstable emotions on top of a post-seizure state is a recipe for another, more serious seizure. I'm calling Hotch and you're going to work at the precinct. He can send Morgan or JJ in your place." Rossi argued back. 

"You read a book." Spencer shrugged Rossi's hands away angrily. "Big deal. I'm fine." 

"Don't make me turn this into something bigger, Dr Reid." David said firmly. Spencer glared at him. "You're unfit to work." 

"Fine." Spencer reached into his pocket and drew out his credentials. He handed them to Rossi before unhooking his holster and handing it, with his gun, over too. "Fine." He repeated. "I'm done with the BAU anyway."


	6. Chapter 6

"What?" Hotch exclaimed, eyebrows crooked. JJ looked back at him from her stance at the two-way mirror, watching Derek questioning Singer. She frowned as Hotch gave a drawn out sigh and closed his eyes. "Okay, you and Prentiss stay at the scene and and I'll send Morgan to you; is he there?" JJ's curiosity grew and she turned completely to Hotch. "Okay, if he leaves let me know. I'll send Morgan now." He closed his phone and looked squarely at JJ. 

"Spencer?" She said, "Is he alright?"

Hotch shrugged, "He had a small seizure and blew up at Dave when he suggested he come back here and then when Dave insisted, Spencer handed him his gun and badge." JJ's brows rose in surprise. "I'll get Morgan to pick him up and I'll sit in with Singer. Will you keep in touch with Prentiss, get what you can on this victim and get Garcia to run a history?" 

"Of course." JJ nodded. "Hotch?" Aaron stopped just shy of the door into the interrogation room and looked back at JJ. "Maybe you should let Spencer leave if he wants to?" 

"I won't make him stay," Hotch said clearly, "But I'm not about to make him think he isn't a valid member of this team. Neither should you."

JJ said nothing as Hotch opened the door and called Morgan out. She watched Derek's face as he absorbed Hotch's words and sped off quickly; part of her wanted to be angry with Hotch for talking to her the way he had, another part of her envied his ability to compartmentalise the way he did. He separated Spencer Reid from his job - JJ couldn't. He was Dr Spencer Reid, the annoying little kid-brother who bothered her on the jet with facts she cared nothing about and who took pills to steady his body. Nothing about Spencer was separate from his work - he was his work - and JJ wanted so badly to be able to see Spencer in the same light Hotch did. 

 

-*-*-*-*-*-

 

Derek drew his borrowed car to a halt behind the SUV that Rossi had driven in earlier. Police still swarmed the area but the body was gone, and the paramedics along with it. The area glowed red and blue in the service lights and was cordoned off by police ticker-tape. 

"Prentiss." Derek called, approaching her and Rossi in the bloodied area the body had been found. "Where is he?" 

"Squad car," Prentiss pointed, "Second one; there's an EMT with him."

Derek frowned, "Is he hurt? Hotch said..."

"No, physically he's alright." David spoke up. "A little drained, overtired and emotional. Perhaps embarrassed." 

Derek rolled his eyes, "Can I have his stuff?" He held out his hand to Rossi. "Badge and gun."

"Glove box of the SUV." Rossi nodded and handed Derek the keys to the car. "His shoulder bag is locked in there, too. Might need it." 

Derek's boots scuffed as he made his way back to the car to retrieve Spencer's things. With them bundled in his arm, and the keys returned to David, he made his way to the squad car that Spencer was hauled up in along the perimeter of the crime scene. He wrapped on the window of the rear, right side door and waited a moment. After a short time, the door was pushed open and a female EMT climbed out of the car. 

"SSA Morgan?" She asked. "I'm Jennifer Connell - Spencer's okay." She smiled softly and turned her back to walk away. 

Derek bent at the waist and peered inside the car. Spencer was curled in on himself at the far end, looking tiny and impossibly young. 

"Hey." Morgan whispered. "No one's angry or hurt or..." 

"I am." Spencer turned his face so his cheek rested on his knees. "I puked on my shoes, in front of David Rossi and the NYPD."

Derek wanted to smile, but Spencer seemed so genuinely broken. "We all puke." 

"I can't be in the FBI anymore." He said, still fragile and small. "I quit, Derek. I don't want to be an agent or a profiler or something big and worthy." He sniffed, and only then did Derek realise he was openly upset. He dropped Spencer's things into the car and climbed inside, closing the door behind him, locking them in for privacy. 

"Part of me thought you'd decided to stay." Derek said carefully. 

"Me too." Spencer nodded. "Last night, back home, I didn't want it to end. We were a family, a group of people thrown together but perfectly good and adaptable." Spencer licked his lips and raised his head just long enough to wipe his nose against the back of his hand. He nestled his head against his knees again and swallowed audibly. "I can't keep working in a high risk job with a condition that could jeopardise me, you and the work we do." 

"What? Jeopardise?" Derek frowned over the words. "Spencer. You're not..." 

"I had a fit here, on a case, at the scene." Spencer straightened up a little. "Derek, I had a fit when I was supposed to be in control of the situation. The one moment I was supposed to know it all and be strong and valiant, I was useless and small and needy." 

"You're not useless." Derek enforced sharply. 

"When I'm half paralysed with a seizure, I pretty much am." Spencer said, matter of fact and sharp. "All my PhDs and my brain can't fix its own problem." He joked feebly. "I'm done with Quantico. I'm sorry." 

Derek reached his hand out and pushed it through Spencer's hair, "You never have to apologise to me, Spence. Not ever, not about this." He said and dragged Spencer close to him. 

He held him against his chest, kissed his head and hugged him close for as long as Spencer would allow. When the lithe junior pushed away, Derek slackened his arms. 

"Would Hotch kick my ass if my resignation was immediate?" Spencer asked, contorting his body until he was turned around and stretched against Derek. 

"Yeah." Derek nodded certainly. "But if it's what you want." He rubbed his arm along Spencer's bicep. 

Spencer licked his lips and nodded. "I'm cold, tired, embarrassed and smell like throw-up. It's what I want." 

 

-*-*-*-*-*-

 

David and Prentiss arrived back at the station with as much information as they could gather, providing JJ with ideas for a profile of their second unsub. They were surprised to find Hotch and JJ wrapping up their interview with Singer, and Morgan and Reid still not back. 

"He's been bailed." Hotch explained.

"Bailed!?" Prentiss asked, disbelieving. 

"Good lawyer." JJ shook her head angrily. 

"Morgan isn't back?" David asked, looking around. 

Hotch and JJ shared a brief glance. "Taking Reid to the hotel; his resignation is immediate."

"Resignation?" Emily snapped. Rossi sighed; he'd hoped Spencer would change his mind, so hadn't mentioned his words to her. 

Hotch nodded, "I'll speak with him back in Quantico, but I can force his hand. For now, we need to work on our unsub, and getting all the evidence we can against Singer for a conviction."


	7. Chapter 7

"I'm gonna kill Rossi, you know that right?" Derek said, handing Spencer a bottle of water from the mini fridge to take his meds as Spencer dropped lethargically into the small hotel sofa. 

"You're not." Spencer said, spoken oddly as he cupped his tongue around his tablets. He opened the water bottle and took a mouthful, knocking the pills down his throat. 

"Spence, he told you to leave the scene even when you told him you were okay. You know yourself, you know long it takes to settle after a partial seizure, he doesn't. He had no right." Derek argued. He threw a packaged sandwich into Spencer's lap. "Eat that."

Spencer tossed the sandwich around in his hands, unimpressed. "Apparently he got himself an epilepsy manual." He said, pulling a face.

"What?" Derek screwed up his face as he reached into his bag at the foot of the double bed. 

"I remember - he was talking to Prentiss about something while _it_ was happening. About photosensitivity. And then he was giving me your usual speech about emotional changes and the likelihood of another seizure following the previous one - I just hate that; people who get book smart and think it relates to me directly. My mom couldn't handle my seizures when she was bad, because it wasn't always textbook..." Spencer scratched the side of his head with his right hand and then flicked out his wrist as he shrugged with indifference. 

Derek abandoned the search through his bag and walked around to join Spencer on the sofa. "We had a talk, about some aspects of epilepsy in general. He said he was sick of feeling like he couldn't help, of standing back useless and worried instead of understanding." Spencer shrugged his shoulders. "I tried to give him _your_ epilepsy information, to not be general, but sometimes it has to be practical information too." 

Spencer inhaled deeply through his nose and let it go in a sigh, "but it's so general; just because people typically have certain postictal symptoms, doesn't mean it's something that happens all the time. The seizure I had...I can handle them, I've been handling them since I was seven. Half my body freaks out for a minute, then I feel kinda sick and then I'm okay. I told him I was okay - why didn't listen?" 

Derek reached up and pushed Spencer's hair back from his forehead with a large but gentle hand. "He shouldn't have asked you to go, and I'm pissed that he did, but probably thought he was doing you a favour." 

Spencer shook his head and then rested his cheek as Derek's hand slipped lower to cup his face. "But he wasn't." He swallowed, "And he should have listened."

Derek nodded his agreement instantly. "You're right - but he's like JJ and my sister; they take every small change in your demeanour or behaviour as a sign of a seizure and they blow up times a thousand and then they pester you with it. But they care, Spence. They're just trying to be protective. I was like that at the start, particularly bad when your tonic clonic seizures got more frequent, and I'll probably be like it again when they review your meds." Derek flattened his mouth to a line and took a slow breath. "Nobody is purposefully trying to piss you off, or wrap you in a fire blanket for safety, but when it happens it's because we care and we can't read you mind."

Spencer drew his face from Derek's and sat looked down at the untouched sandwich in his lap. "I get that." He conceded. "It's just...annoying." 

"Everything annoys you." Derek teased, lightening the sudden heavy tone of the mood. "Eat the sandwich; you can't leave those tablets on an empty stomach." Derek got up and took his phone from his pocket. "I need to call Hotch, I'm technically still on the clock so I should check in." He opened his phone and walked across the boxy room as Spencer dismally pulled the wrap from the sandwich to inspect it. 

Derek lingered by the door, watching Spencer, whilst Hotch briefed him on his cell. In the fifteen minute phone call, he watched Spencer check out twice and return with his usual long sigh, and take a grand total of three bites out of the sandwich before abandoning it to the IKEA-esque coffee table in front of the couch. 

"Thanks Hotch; I'll keep working the victimology and keep in touch with Garcia. Call me, yeah? ...and thanks, for...y'know." He closed his phone with a snap and pushed it into his pocket. 

"Have they considered that the second unsub is Singer's younger brother? He was institutionalised in his youth but was released into Singer's care once he turned eighteen. He has brain damage, from complications at birth and an accident in his teens; he would be a prime candidate for being easily led, especially if it was his brother giving the orders." Spencer reeled off as Derek approached. 

"Brother?" Derek frowned.

"Garcia told me." Spencer looked up as Derek towered above him. 

Derek smiled, "worth looking into." He leaned down and placed a kiss on Spencer's warm forehead. "Knew I loved you for some reason."

 

-*-*-*-*-*-

 

"Thanks Morgan, I'll send Prentiss and Rossi over to the apartment first thing, Garcia just emailed over the address." Hotch said before hanging up. He turned to the team with a slightly more positive outlook than one he'd had previously. "Singer's brother." He said simply. 

"That's right! Why didn't I think of that before?" JJ snapped her fingers. "Reid mentioned something before, something about the brother and behaviour he'd exhibited in a report from an institution he'd been in - obsession with a female staff member or something, I don't remember. He was rambling like he does and got locked onto something else" JJ began, waving her hand as she tried to recall the clarity in Spencer's rants. And then her expression opened up. "The staff member had blond hair and green eyes." She said, excitedly. "Just like our vics." She beamed a hopeful smile. "Spencer was right - the pattern, the link - he said he thought that it was hair colour; Singer and his brother are deliberately going after girls who look like the institution staff that his brother had fallen for." 

"Let's get to the apartment," Rossi gave Prentiss a gentle nudge and the two kicked immediately into gear. 

"No." Hotch said firmly and the two halted. "First thing tomorrow; right now we've got to assume that that's where Singer is going: tonight won't be a strike night because the brother has already acted out when Singer wasn't there. He's going to want to protect his brother so he's going to be keeping him low and hidden. Best we can do is storm first thing." Hotch evaluated. 

"I'll find the paperwork Reid had on the brother and the staff member and see if I can tie it to the other victims and work out why the satanic tones are important." JJ said, examining the boards around them in the office they'd been given. 

"I'll call Garcia on getting us access to the institution first thing tomorrow." Hotch decided, as the team dispersed. He watched, hands on his hips, and felt - for a moment - that the end might be in sight. "And then we call it a night and meet back here at six am." 

Rossi examined his watch - it was almost eleven pm. But the prospect of being so close and having to time their responses made him itch; if he could nail the killers, he wanted to do it there and then. But he understood the importance of timing. 

 

-*-*-*-*-*-

 

Spencer hummed, arching his body as Derek's kisses peppered down his neck and across his collarbone. His hips rose up, digging his shoulders into the bed as he fought for contact with Derek's skin. Derek smiled into his kisses, loving the sounds that Spencer was making, and moved back up to meet Spencer's open mouth in a deep, hungry kiss. 

Spencer's arms held Derek tightly, pulling his body as close to his thin frame as possible and bucked his hips against Derek's. It felt like weeks since they'd been so close and Spencer wasn't sure he could last much longer as Derek's body ground against his own. 

Derek thrust his hips, his pelvis grinding into Spencer's, and let out a heavy sigh to the crook of Spencer's neck. He couldn't help himself groaning as Spencer's fingers traced his spine and dragged their bodies even closer together. 

"Jesus, Deh..." Spencer's mouth hung open as the friction built with each snap of Derek's hips. "I'm...shit..." He hissed as his body began to tremble. 

Spencer's release came suddenly, tightening his muscles and forcing a throaty groan from his mouth that send Derek tumbling almost immediately after, their bodies vibrating against one another in a hot, sweaty mix of limbs. 

"Jesus..." Derek exhaled into Spencer ear, breathing unevenly. 

"Um huh!" Spencer echoed breathlessly.

Derek rolled awkwardly, lying beside Spencer on top of the sheets as their bodies began to cool. Spencer closed his eyes, sated, and sighed contentedly. 

"I thought...you be more...angry than...horny." Spencer took a deep breath, trying to regain composure, and threw a sex-drunk smile to Derek at his side. 

Derek barely moved but he laughed. "Can't stay mad at you." He whispered. "It has to be replaced with some other feeling, why not arousal?" He laughed again and Spencer swatted him with his hand, the heavy limb just flopped against Derek's hip. 

"I'm gross." Spencer heaved a breath. "I need to shower."

"Maybe wait." Derek said. "Let your body settle." 

Spencer sighed, "sticky..." He whined in an intone. 

Derek chuckled, "And tired - I don't want you falling in the shower. If you give me five minutes I'll come with you." He said sleepily. Spencer didn't argue and, despite feeling a tad uncomfortable, lay still until Derek was ready to move.


	8. Chapter 8

The morning arrived quickly, but without real result. When the team arrived at Singer's home to find it abandoned - clearly in a hurry - with no cemented clues as to where either of the brothers was. 

Rossi bubbled with anger but he had nowhere to direct it - Hotch had been right in delaying the call to the house, but had he allowed it earlier then Rossi was sure he might have found a much better result for the team, and the city. But, down an agent, Rossi had felt the hard working team had overcompensated and still come away with nothing and it made him more and more annoyed at the situation. 

What his real problem was, though, that nobody had considered the effects of the teams state of mind and ability. What if Reid had been on full-functioning form - how different would the outcomes have been? What he didn't understand was why Spencer had never been given a forum to explain his life with epilepsy properly and for it to be worked out for Spencer what he could do as part of the team - as an important part of the team. 

When they arrived, depleted, back at the station, Rossi took Hotch aside. 

"What's the problem, Dave?" 

"Reid." Rossi said plainly. 

Hotch sighed. "We can't force his hand."

"That's not what I'm talking about. If he wants to go, let him. But I wasn't wrong in what I did - he wasn't fit at that time to stay and assist us in the field. I was right to ask him to come back to you." Rossi said firmly. "He's a damn good agent and smart as they come, but he's not being smart here. He needs to be seen by doctors and it needs to be decided what suitable work is for him."

Hotch put his hands on his hips and gave another sigh. He couldn't argue. "Dave, I know."

"He needs to get his seizures under control and he needs to be clearly made to understand that he won't always be in the middle of the action, or able to be." Rossi continued.

Hotch held up his hands. "Dave, stop it - I know. I agree with you. I've already made a call back home for assessments and I've been talking to Morgan about having Reid see his consultant about his care. Changes will be made if Reid decides to stay."

 

-*-*-*-*-*-

 

Typically, Spencer didn't have nocturnal seizures; his sleep was rarely disturbed by seizure activity and, if it was, it often a simple partial seizure with a rare aura. He would wake up, feeling light headed, and be given little to no more warning before his right side was overtaken. So it wasn't completely strange to wake feeling uncoordinated and spaced out when he did, he glanced at the clock and registered the time: 02:00. 

He lay still, waiting for the grab, but it didn't come. The spacey feeling in his head continued, dragging out and extending into nausea and the beginnings of a dull headache. He pushed himself away from Derek's warm form and sat up on the edge of the squeaky hotel bed. With a different angle, he felt even more unsteady. He exhaled sharply and swallowed as the nausea rose. He felt outside of himself, like he was watching himself, and it made his head dizzy.

"Spencer?" Derek's bleary voice broke into the darkness. 

"Feel funny." Spencer managed, feebly. "Not...um..." His words stopped and were followed by a sucking noise as he began lapping his tongue back and forth against his teeth. He blinked rhythmically, though Derek couldn't see it, and hands gripped and loosened against the side of the mattress.

Derek knelt up and placed his hand on Spencer's back, waiting the complex partial seizure out. Spencer's body didn't feel taut beneath him but his arms moved oddly whilst his fingers flexed on the bed and his mouth continued to work as though he were eating. 

After a few moments, the noises stopped and Spencer's arms relaxed. He lifted his hands deliberately but without aim and dropped them into his lap. Dazed, he gave a sob as he slowly became aware of who and where he was and rested back into Derek's chest. 

"It's okay, love." Derek said calmly, arms encasing Spencer's small frame. "It's all right."

Spencer took a few deep breaths, grounding himself and turned his head against the front of Derek's shoulder. He sobbed and it broke Derek's heart. 

"Spence, it's okay. You're okay." He said softly in the darkness, kissing Spencer's messy head. 

"It's not." Spencer sniffed. "I want go back to the neurologist; I want something different, the medication sucks."

"We can do that once we get back to Virginia. ...Maybe then you can think a little clearer about quitting." Derek said carefully. 

"I was clear." Spencer said sharply and pulled himself out of Derek's embrace. "I don't want to be this person in that job, it's not working anymore." 

"Because Gideon's gone?" Derek asked. 

Spencer stood up and turned to face Derek. "It's not about Gideon!"

Derek ambled off the bed. "Then what is it about? I know you, Spencer, and I know stress is a major problem - so if it's not Gideon, then what is it? What is so up in your head that you're making yourself unable to cope?" 

"Making myself?" Spencer repeated angrily, suddenly illuminated as Derek turned on the bedside lamp. "I don't want to be unable to control my bodily movements, Derek, it isn't something I'm willing to happen every couple hours!" 

"I didn't mean that." Derek tried to placate. "I mean that there's something going around your head that's disrupting your sleep and raising your stress levels that's making you more prone to seizures. So what is it? If it's not abandonment issues over Gideon quitting, what is it?" 

"Abandonment issues?" Spencer choked an angry laugh at the statement. "So coming from a broken home with a psycho mom means I have abandonment issues and having Gideon walk away without a real goodbye has exacerbated that? That what you're saying? That I'm damaged and I'm spiralling - you think this is a psychotic break?" 

Derek frowned deeply. "What? I didn't say any of that!"

"But you're thinking it. You're thinking what have I landed myself into loving this guy who's so broken and sick and whose schizophrenic mom probably passed on her mental illness? You're thinking why am I here with him, you're thinking - I can do better." 

Derek stood silently as Spencer shouted at him, getting louder and louder. 

"You're settling because it's easier than going after what you really want. Did some jock at school jilt you so hard you decided it's better to settle than reach for something better?" 

"Okay, enough!" Derek shouted back. "I don't even get you right now." 

"Do you ever?" Spencer snapped.

Derek shook his head. "Are you trying to piss me off? Do you want me to leave Spencer, because I can. But I won't - I love you, you're everything to me, and I'm scared for you because I don't know how to help." 

"I don't need help!" Spencer shouted loudly. "Don't you get it? I'm not a case, I'm not a victim! I'm supposed to be your partner, you're supposed..." 

"What?" Derek asked, "tell me what I'm supposed to do because I'll do it. This is so irrational!" 

Spencer picked up the lamp from the dresser and growled as he threw it across the room, plunging the place back into darkness. 

"Jesus, Spencer!" Derek shrieked. 

As he stumbled across the room for the mains light switch, the door to their room knocked three times loudly. Lighting up the room, Derek took a hopefully-calming breath before he reached for the door. He jammed it open and looked meekly at his superior standing on the other side. 

"Morgan?" 

Derek exhaled and pulled the door open further, "Sorry, sir." 

"Everything okay?" He asked, stepping through the door as Derek stepped back. Clad in pyjamas he looked every inch a normal man, but he spoke like their boss. "Spencer?"

"What?" Spencer asked, teeth gritted, standing shivering on the spot with his arms locked at his sides and the broken lamp in pieces around him. 

"This whole floor can hear you." Hotch said carefully. 

Spencer jutted his jaw and looked past Hotch to Derek. "If you have it in your head too, then get it out." He focused back on Hotch. 

Hotch frowned at him, "Have what in my head?" 

"That I'll change my mind." Spencer said, crossly. 

Hotch glanced back at Derek then back to Spencer. "We are mid-case and I've accepted that you don't want to work for the bureau anymore." He held out his hands. "Where from that do you deduce I've got a plan to change your mind in my head?" 

Spencer swallowed and flicked his eyes between the two men. "I'm not crazy." He whispered. Derek's breath hitched. 

"We don't think you are, Spence." Derek uttered quietly.

"Reid," Hotch said carefully. "I think time away from work is a good idea. I admit I'm not going process your resignation straight away, but if you're still certain of your decision back in Virginia, of course I'll file it. I know Jason leaving has caused you some stress -,"

"It isn't about Gideon: this is about me! About everyone's reaction to me." Spencer snapped. "I don't want to work alongside people who look at me like you all do." 

Hotch's face fell. "Spencer-."

"Hotch, can this wait until a reasonable hour?" Derek cut in. "It's half two in the morning, we are in the midst of a case and today has been..." He blew out a breath. 

Hotch looked torn. "Keep the noise down; your personal affairs are not the business of the whole hotel." He warned before turning toward the door slowly and reluctantly leaving the two alone. 

Derek shut the door on him and turned to Spencer. "What's going on, Spence?"

"I just need to get out of here!"


End file.
